Hypocrisy (noun): The thing that brought them together
by I-write-hurt-not-comfort
Summary: As long as they had each other, that internal and external equilibrium could remain. The drug? Well, only time would tell how that played into their relationship / fic swap with @nawnomschnuff / astolfoe / contains weed and mentions of addiction / set in Lover Dearest (AU)


**_(A/Ns: this is me and jack's nth fic swap. ive lost count now. his part to me was the Elleo getting high, and i sent this to him a while ago. this takes place in the Lover Dearest AU, although can be read as a stand-alone. all you really need to know is that Astolfo and Noe are both ex-weed addicts who left rehab. oh, and Astolfo is trans._**

 ** _please leave a review if you liked the fic! :D_**

 ** _content warnings: drug addiction, smoking weed, mentions of death, mentions of gender dysphoria, some light astolfoe_**

 ** _disclaimer: i do not own Vanitas no Carte)_**

* * *

 **Hypocrisy (noun): The thing that brought them together **

**_[From Noé, 19:35]  
_** _Im almost there, the train was delayed._

Astolfo sighed heavily, his breath condensing in the winter air like vapour. Whatever thought regarding _that_ he simply dismissed, shuffling the snow around with his feet as a futile distraction.

His hands shook, but he refused to acknowledge that as nerves.

Yes, it had to be the cold. Of course. It was below freezing, anyway.

He wasn't nervous; he was excited, he told himself.

The last time he'd seen Noé had been over 7 months ago, after he left the rehab to go and make something of his life.

Astolfo, on the other hand, hadn't had such an easy time getting out.

Despite Noé visiting him a couple of times, he still broke out. He broke out, and he relapsed.

Obviously, he wasn't _proud_ of it. But the feeling of warmth which came with the high was euphoric. Every negative feeling he experienced was alleviated.

The rehab centre, unfortunately, didn't see that side of things.

And so, instead, they told him Noé shouldn't come and visit him anymore. It wasn't helping him make progress, they said.

Astolfo knew they were wrong. But they had the authority.

Nevertheless, even if the past _7 months_ had been utter _hell_ , at least he was out now. He was clean, and just itching to see Noé.

Noé made him feel as happy as the cannabis did, after all.

He shivered, another gust of wind brushing past him. But hey, at least he had clothes which fit him. And a binder: the only thing which had kept him alive these past few months. It was the last thing Noé had brought him before he was forbidden from seeing him.

Trembling, Astolfo swallowed thickly, anticipation overwhelming him as Noé's train pulled up on the platform.

He exhaled, shakily, taking two steps forward.

But this time, his self-control faltered, and every ounce of his attention was stolen by the vapour in the air. Wisps of grey smoke-like vapour danced around him.

Just like when he smoked pot.

He wanted to use, one last time. Just to say goodbye.

With Noé, as well.

He wanted to be clean, of course. But…

Fuck, how desperately he wanted to smoke weed with Noé, as well. _Just once._

"Astolfo?"

Within an instant, Astolfo was pulled - _saved_ from his trance by Noé, approaching him from the corner of his vision. Wordlessly, biting back tears, Astolfo dove towards him, throwing his arms around him.

And within the next second, Noé's arms wrapped around him, too.

 _This_ was the hug he remembered. This was how he stayed up with him at night, past when the date changed, gently swaying beside him until he fell asleep again.

Even the smell of Noé was beautifully nostalgic, and when the hug passed ten seconds in duration, Astolfo was unable to hold back the tears pricking at his eyes. He was just so grateful for everything he'd done.

"Hey, shh, don't cry," Noé said quietly, delicately brushing a hand through the other's hair.

"Sorry…" Astolfo whimpered, pulling away brusquely and hastily wiping his eyes.

Noé smiled - a genuine smile - and chuckled lightly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah…" Astolfo said, weakly. He was always weak with that smile. Internally, he just melted.

"So…" Noé started again, leading the other out into the street, a line of shops and restaurants lit up by Christmas lights and being enlightened further as they reflected off the snow. "Where did you want to go?"

Astolfo shrugged, and shoved his hands into his pocket. "I don't really mind."

"I mean… you can't legally drink…" Noé mentioned. "Not that, uh, drinking during recovery is really a good idea, or anything."

"I'm fine now, Noé," Astolfo declared. Even saying so made a slight smile tug at his lips. Being around Noé really _did_ make him happy.

But this bond they shared - one thing could make it better. One thing which his mind shouldn't have wandered to but the fact was that he _was_ an addict and that's just how things were.

"Astolfo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're spacing out on me." Noé forced a chuckle. "Let's get something to eat."

Wordlessly, Astolfo nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. He needed to focus on Noé. Only Noé. Not the drug.

The place they found to eat was a small cafe off the main street, situated at the end of another street which was split into two separate alleys. It wasn't overly expensive, but nevertheless, Noé still opted to pay.

"You dyed your hair," Noé pointed out, and they sat down at the table beside the window.

"Oh, yeah…" Astolfo murmured, dragging his fingers through his pastel-pink hair. It needed to be cut. "I know it looks feminine but I like the colour-!"

"It doesn't look feminine, Astolfo," Noé cut him off. The smile was back, and any anxiety Astolfo had begun to feel settled instantly. "I like it."

"Oh…" He felt himself blush. "Thanks…"

"So, where are you staying now?"

"I got put in some stupid foster home," Astolfo grumbled, scanning over the menu. "My foster parents don't trust me. They won't give me enough money to buy myself clothes, or anything, in case I go out and buy weed. Stupid…" he rolled his eyes. "But, I'm… starting hormone therapy soon, so that's… good, I guess. At least they're better than my _biological_ parents."

"Well… I'm glad. You deserve it."

"Yeah…" Astolfo muttered. He wasn't hungry. Seeing Noé was amazing and everything, but what use was this reunion if all he could think about was getting high? "What've you done?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked!" Noé beamed, waving his arms around. "I spent 3 months doing a course in addiction counselling, and then I took a few classes in public speaking. And now, I'm taking an advanced class in drug therapy! Oh, and I've gone to several schools and done presentations about drugs! It's strange, really. Everyone I've spoken thinks weed is really safe, and oh my, how wrong are they?!"

Astolfo snickered. "Nerd."

At that, Noé pouted, and then continued. "The presentations are my favourite. It feels... good to educate people. I don't want anyone to go down the same road as you, or I, or… Vanitas… or, yeah…"

For a few moments, the two fell silent. Bringing up Vanitas left an air of tension hanging over them. Until Astolfo addressed the topic. "You still think about him, huh?"

"Yeah…" Noé confessed. His gaze fell to the floor, softening at the thought of his - _their_ \- befallen friend. "I talk about him in my presentations, actually. It's usually at that point that people start crying. I think at that they're expecting me to say 'that person was me, and look where I am now?', but instead I tell them the truth, and I think that hits them harder than they expect."

"These presentations sound depressing as heck," Astolfo commented. His stomach growled at the smell of the food from the kitchen, but he wasn't hunger at all. He had no appetite. "I probably should've been seen one of them."

Noé chuckled lightly, but once again, his amusement seemed fabricated. "You've done well. I'm really proud of you, all things considered, you know."

There it was again. That flutter in his chest. That undeniable warmth that just made him feel comfortable with himself. Whether it was love or simply gratefulness, Astolfo couldn't tell. The only thing he'd ever loved was the drug. And that felt different.

Maybe it didn't.

He couldn't remember. It had been a long time since he last smoked pot. Too long, even.

Great. He'd just gotten out of rehab and the first thing he wanted to do was relapse?

No - surely if it was just once, with no strings attached (also known as an addiction, he'd learnt), it couldn't qualify as a 'relapse'.

Just...

Two friends bonding over the thing which brought them together in the first place.

"Astolfo?" Noé pulled him from his train of thoughts. "You're spacing out again. Are you sure everything is alright?"

"I'm _fine,"_ he growled in response. Immediately, he felt bad. Aggression wasn't his intention; if anything, it was the opposite. But ultimately, his denial seemed to be projected as frustration, which was unfortunately directed at the other. Sulkily, with that thought in mind, he shrank back in the chair, fiddling with the menu. "Sorry, I'm just…"

"Just what?"

Astolfo bit on his lip tentatively. Surely he could tell Noé. Noé was literally being _trained_ to deal with this. "Can I ask you, Noé… have you smoked weed at all since leaving the rehab?"

Almost immediately after he'd asked the question, a sad, regretful smile began to tug at Noé's lips, which subsequently tugged in Astolfo's heartstrings.

He shouldn't have asked that, really. But he wanted to know.

"Yeah, a couple of times," Noé confessed after a short silence. His words were quiet; delicate, and well thought out. "It was only when I felt particularly down. Straight away I felt this undeniable _guilt_ , at having relapsed. It was hypocritical, as well. I was the one going around telling people not to touch the drug, and yet there I was, high as a kite." The discreet, hollow smile returned. "But… it was different. I didn't feel an insatiable urge to smoke it again. So I guess… that was always a sign of recovery, in my eyes."

Speechless, Astolfo didn't utter a single word.

"Why? Did you…?"

"No," he cut him off. His words, unintentionally bitter once again, seemed brusque, and shallow. "But I want to."

Noé, exhaling deeply, chose his next words carefully before he spoke. "I can't stop you. However, please think carefully about it. I don't… want you to go back down the path you've already gone down once."

"I've already thought about it, dammit! I know I'd be stupid to do it and I-I… I might get hooked again. But all I wanted to do since I met you - _particularly_ since you left - was smoke weed with you! Just once, like a goodbye. It was the one thing which brought us together. A-And I know it'd fuck up my recovery, and yours too, but I just want this one time!"

After his outburst, Astolfo was left panting, embarrassed, and unable to look Noé in the eyes.

Noé however, simple laughed, picked up the menu, and sent a warm, genuine, tolerant, and _accepting_ smile back his way. "Slow down. I'm not going to _stop_ you."

"So… y-you'll, you know, smoke pot with me? Just once?"

Shrugging, Noé said, "I'll think about it."

Astolfo's nerves settled significantly. This was good. This was promising.

"I'll let you know after dinner," Noé added, winking at the other. "But first, pick your food. I'm starving!"

A smile tugged at the side of Astolfo's lips. Finally, it seemed as though his appetite had returned as well.

* * *

Fortunately, the two managed to get through dinner without mentioning the 'W' word.

Instead, they talked, and laughed, and shared stories of what'd happened in each other's absence. Noé rambled for tens of minutes about people he'd met at training, or at presentations and speeches, whilst Astolfo would rant about either his new therapist, or the countless people who were set up in his room after Noé had left.

By the time they finished, it was fast approaching 9:30pm.

"What time is your curfew?" Noé asked, as they sauntered out into the snow, and loitered outside the cafe.

"Um…" Astolfo hummed aloud as he checked his watch. "I still have about an hour before I need to go home." He paused. "Did you want to…?"

A minute or so passed in silence, before Noé finally gave his response. His response, which was accompanied oh-so-dutifully by a beaming smile. "Yeah, I do. Just once, for you."

Internally, Astolfo was jumping up and down in celebration. This was closure he'd been seeking. _This_ was what he wanted, regardless of how hypocritical it was, or how boldly it defied the 12-step program. Externally, however, he sighed in relief, thanking Noé before pulling out his phone. "My, er, dealer used to hang around this area most nights."

"I'll pay," Noé instantly offered. "I have the money. Don't argue."

Astolfo protested weakly with a nudge on his arms, but overall was grateful, really; he had next-to-no cash on him. "I'll tell him to come here. And then… I'll talk to him."

"I'll go," Noé countered, following the other into the alley. Nervously, he scratched the back of his head, and let out a sheepish laugh. "I haven't actually dealt with any drug dealer in a while, so I'm a little out of practice. But I don't what him taunting you into doing anything you're not comfortable with."

Wordlessly, Astolfo nodded. It was a valid concern, after all.

As expected, the two were able to meet up with Astolfo's old dealer almost immediately, Noé doing as he'd said and striking the deal with him. He'd only afforded one joint, but between them, that was enough.

It took about 10 minutes for them to find somewhere shielded from the eyes of the law enforcement - neither of them wanted to face 7 years in prison for possession, so it was worth the extra effort. Besides, in the end, this was a private matter for them, so a little forest cut off from the main part of town was the perfect location.

Once they got there, the two hopped up onto the first branch of the tree, before Noé pulled out the fresh cannabis, and began rolling the joint.

Astolfo, luckily, always kept a lighter on him. (It wasn't like he'd been expecting this, or anything. Of course not.) "I have a lighter, by the way."

Noé nodded, captivating Astolfo's attention as he continued delicately preparing the joint. Every brush of his finger; every align of the drug - it was all rehearsed. It was ritualistic. It was something he'd done a lot. And he just couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"Here," Noé promptly handed the joint to Astolfo, nodding at him. "Your idea."

"Thanks," Astolfo murmured under his breath. Slowly, he placed the joint between his lips, and tore his gaze from the other as he held the lighter up to the end of it.

And from the moment he took that first hit, the warm smoke filling his lungs; the drug coursing through his veins, the feeling of pure relief was utterly euphoric.

Every single one of his senses was amplified. The lights from the street brightened, merging into one big blur of colours.

"It's good," he said, exhaling the smoke in a thin stream before passing the joint to Noé.

With pursed lips, Noé inhaled heavily on the joint and did exactly the same. Inspecting it, seemingly impressed, he tapped the ash off, and then handed it back to Astolfo. "Yeah. It is."

"Thank you for doing this," Astolfo said, pressing the joint back to his lips and breathing in again.

It felt like a big, warm hug, but Noé's presence reminded him why he _shouldn't_ be doing this.

It was a social thing. And as long as he had Noé to remind him of that, he had no reason to get addicted again.

For the next few minutes, the two did nothing except pass the joint back and forth, a cloud of smoke lingering over them. Anyone who came near them would smell it, but they didn't care. They were too high to bother with that.

Taking a seat on the tree trunk behind them, Noé sucked the life out of the joint, exhaling aesthetically before stubbing the remains out in the snow.

"This was fun," he chuckled. "Hah, that was strong though…"

"Better than any of the shit I used to smoke…" Astolfo grumbled, stretching out beside Noé and gently resting his head on the other's stomach. "Maybe we could do it again some time."

Noé smiled, laughed, and dragged his fingers through Astolfo's hair. "Yeah, maybe…"

It was peaceful. Tranquil. And, best of all, neither of them had the urge to go out and use again. They didn't _need_ it to become a habit.

As long as they had each other, that internal _and_ external equilibrium could remain.

The drug?

Well, only time would tell how _that_ played into their relationship.


End file.
